The Slave Princess
The sword says swiftly What the brush takes time to say. As the years go by, The sword’s words are forgotten While the brush’s words live on. – The Canticle of Menkeret. ……………………………………………….. The ropes dig into my wrists but I feel no pain. I face the setting sun across a boundless sapphire sea but I am only vaguely conscious of the marvelous beauty before me. I am naked but clothed in resignation. I am hungry but know intuitively that soon I will be replete. I should feel fear but prefer to trust in Fate. Redolent with rare oils from nameless far-off lands and adorned with a costly jewel from beyond the mountains, my body is beautiful. I am beautiful, as I have always been. An hour passes and the last copper rays of the …